Left Behind
by lipstickletter
Summary: Mark married Charlotte. Together they had a healthy baby girl, Julie, but when Charlotte leaves Mark and their daughter to live on their own, how will he cope? Maureen, Joanne, and even Roger help, but what happens when a new girl stumbles into his life?
1. Fold His Hands

_Disclaimer: I don't own, I REEENNNTTT!_

"Hello?"

"She won't stop crying." Immediately Maureen knew that Mark was panicked.

"Mark?"

"I tried everything and I can't get her to stop."

"Julie?"

"No, the dog. YES, Julie. I tried changing her, feeding her, she won't sleep, she won't eat, and she won't stop crying!"

"Where's Charlotte?" There was a pause…. That can't be good.

"Out. Do you hear this?" Mark rushed over 'out' quickly and changed subjects.

"Look, I'll be over in a second, okay?"

The line went dead.

Ten minutes later and Maureen was bounding up the staircase, knocking on Mark's apartment door. She could hear Mark's infant daughter crying from the bottom of the stairwell.

Mark came to the door and looked horrible. His face was red and there were dark circles under his eyes, his shirt and tie were a mess and his glasses askew. His hair was sticking up everywhere and Maureen wondered if the baby had been tugging at it or Mark had in his own frustration. And then little Julie…

Her golden hair was matted on her head from sweat and Maureen bounded into the room before Mark could speak.

"She's not warm, I checked," Mark answered. "She's racing around the apartment like an Olympic sprinter, I can't—"

Maureen picked Julie up and handed her to Mark as she continued to sob and squirm. She turned the crib around so it was facing the wall and then put Julie in the crib handing her a teddy bear.

"She won't stay in there…"

"Want to bet?" Maureen retorted and Mark fell back on his bed in a huff. Maureen hesitantly grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the bedroom and shut off the lights and door, hearing Julie's cries muffle.

"Mark…"

"Hmm?"

"Where's Charlotte?"

Mark fell back on the couch and rubbed his eyes, pulling his glasses off his face and he sighed. "She's in Europe."

"For…?"

"She got a job in Europe."

"Oh! Well that's great, when are you going?"

"I'm not."

Maureen felt her heart plummet in her chest as she saw Mark's face fall as well. He got up and began folding things around the apartment and putting toys away.

"And Julie?"

"She isn't either," he answered quietly.

Maureen hesitantly pressed the subject further. "What happened?"

"I guess I wasn't home enough? When I went to Chicago when Julie was born and didn't call every five minutes… but she told me to take that internship, right? I'm not dreaming it am I? You were against it, not her…. She wanted me to get the recognition, to get a better job here… and I came home and she was walking out the door…

"I thought she took Julie already, but she was just going to leave her here… leave our baby here and have Julie wait for me to come home rather than her. Abandon our fucking child and I can't even imagine…."

"What'd she say?"

"She was leaving and that I should get a taste of my own medicine for a change… Maureen, I can't raise Julie on my own!"

"Yes you can."

"No, I can't!"

"Yes, you can, she's your daughter and you have to."

Mark remained silent and then returned to picking up more toys and folding blankets, tossing pillows back on the couch.

"Why'd you call me?"

"What?"

"Why not Roger?"

"Mimi died three months ago, he's still unstable…. And with Collins gone now too… I don't want to strain him."

"And Cindy?"

"Imagine me telling my sister about this! She'd tell my mom who would convince me to come home to that hell hole."

"But me?"

"You were good with Cindy's kids when you met my mom… I dunno, if Mimi was still alive I would've… but I thought you wouldn't…"

"Mind? I don't."

"… Thanks," Mark finally said, sitting on the couch.

Maureen paused and wrinkled her nose. "When was the last time you showered?"

"I lost track…"

"Oh God… take a shower and I'm going to order a pizza."

"Why?"

"Because you smell, duh."

"Don't you have to go home?"

"Joanne's on business. I'm free. Besides, I'm not coming back if I'm halfway home and she wakes up."

"Thanks…"

"Go shower."

**Mark is married to Charlotte. Charlotte left, Mark is left with his one year old daughter who won't stop crying. Maureen is there to help. Is this confusing? Should I continue? Feedback would be nice and is necessary. This won't be a Mark/Maureen relationship in the end if I do continue.**


	2. Smooth His Tie

_Disclaimer: I don't own, I REEENNNTT!_

Maureen bounded up the stairs and could hear Roger's guitar from the stairwell. Luckily, Julie was quiet or at least quiet enough that she couldn't hear her. Coming into the unlocked apartment door she went down the narrow hallway and leaned against the doorframe of Mark, Julie, and Char—Mark and Julie's bedroom.

There Roger was, guitar in hands, sitting as close to the crib as possible, singing and strumming a lullaby to little Julie who looked anything but tired and more amazed. Ever since Charlotte left a month ago, Roger moved in to better Mark and himself by keeping himself busy with babysitting now that Joanne was back and Maureen was occupied.

"How cute," Maureen said with a smirk and Roger stopped hitting a sour note as his fingers slipped on the strings. "I thought you'd be talented by now," Maureen cringed.

Roger sighed, putting his guitar down and Maureen threw her hands up in fake surrender. "No, no! Don't let me interrupt, I'll just go get Mark's camera and…"

"He's at another job interview," Roger began, but the phone rang.

Maureen went over to the phone on Mark's nightstand as Julie began to whine in annoyance. She ruffled her hair and smiled as Roger began playing again. "Hello?" Maureen answered the phone and she could almost see Roger rolling his eyes at how she acted like she owned the place.

"Is Mark there?"

"Who's calling?" But before the woman on the other line could answer, the front door slammed.

"UNBELIEVABLE!" Mark began storming around the apartment before going to the bedroom door, holding a letter in his hand.

"What happened?" Roger asked, picking Julie up and cradling her in his arms, hushing her whines.

"Charlotte! She sends a—is that her?!" he asked, noticing Maureen on the phone. Before she could even answer, he ripped the phone from her grip immediately turning into a hushed voice. "You think this is fucking funny? You think you can send a check in the mail, a nice fat check so that Julie's fine, right? No, you listen to me… I don't give a shit!"

"Let's get Julie out of the room before she finally says her first word," Maureen said with a smirk and Roger handed Julie to Maureen who began making faces at her cheer up and stop her whining while Roger grabbed his guitar.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! BREAKING MY HEART IS COMPLETELY NOT THE POINT, OUR CHILD, CHARLOTTE, OUR FUCKING CHILD!"

"Hey, Jules! Want to watch a movie?" Maureen asked with a grin and Julie giggled grabbing a fistful of her hair. "Roger… help…"

Roger came over and untangled her hair from Julie's grip, picking up the infant who in turn grabbed a fistful of his now short hair. "_Rolie Polie Olie_ or _PB&J Otter_?" Maureen asked with a grin from the television.

"Maureen, just pick a tape so we can get this kid to sleep," he said with a sigh as he sat down on the couch with Julie in his lap.

"_Rolie Polie Olie_ it is…"

_He's Rolie Polie Olie,_

_He's small, smirk, and round._

_And in the land of curves and curls,_

_He's the swellest kid around!_

The theme song began and Roger rolled his eyes at Maureen making an 'awe' face as Julie grabbed his thumb and tried to squeeze his ring off.

"YOU CAN'T EXPECT ME TO FORGET ABOUT THIS WITH A MONTHLY CHECK, CHARLOTTE!"

Maureen instinctively turned up the volume to block out the argument from Julie.

"WELL KEEP SENDING THE CHECKS, CHARLOTTE! SEE IF I CASH THEM!"

Julie began whining as Mark slammed the bedroom door. As soon as the wooden frame made impact with the door, Julie exploded into tears. Roger sighed and rubbed her back, hushing the infant with soft coos and whispers.

"You want to teach you daughter any new vocabulary?" Maureen asked with a scowl, pausing the video.

Maureen sighed, seeing Mark's desperate and fuming face, knowing he wanted to let it all out and she brought him into the small hallway, turning on the washing machine and Mark immediately began rambling off.

"She sends a check! A check! And then I yell, I yell and I yell, and she asks if I have a woman in the house. Another woman in the fucking house! That has nothing to do with Julie, with our daughter, with her sudden guilt trip and payment?! Like I wanted a child so much that I picked anyone to just have my baby… And you know what was wrapped around the check?"

Maureen was silent.

"Divorce papers."

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**Thanks for Story Alerts and Reviews. Your love crowded my inbox. I thought I'd get the whole 'wtf' or 'haha, funny but no', but uh... no, I got reviews. Thanks a bunch. Keep reviewing. Feedback?**


	3. Gently Lift His Chin

_Disclaimer: I don't own, I REEENNNTT!_

For the past year, Mark had been consumed with Julie. Roger barely got to help out and when he came down with a cold a month ago, Mark reluctantly had to ask him to go live with Maureen and Joanne for a while. The cold could kill him, but getting Julie sick was worse and Roger went without an argument. He felt like deadweight anyway.

But Maureen was visiting. Making sure Julie was okay and mostly Mark was still sane. So it was no shock to hear Maureen hounding Mark about letting her babysit again and letting him film off some steam and stress.

"Mark, just give me Julie," Maureen followed him to the kitchen as he was feeding Julie her bottle.

"Maureen, I can handle this okay. Filming is not a priority anymore. I have bills to pay and my mom to shove off my back and Julie to take care of…"

"MARK! You NEED to let out some stress. You're not yourself anymore! You're a robot. Besides, Roger's feeling a little better and he misses the kid even though he won't admit it. Joanne hasn't seen her since she was born. Let me take her for the weekend. Every weekend you can have the place to yourself."

Mark seemed intrigued by the idea at first and then snapped back to reality. "I—I—I can't do that to you and Joanne and even Roger… it's not fair. I don't have anything else to do," Mark protested.

"You have a life to live, Mark," Maureen said, leaving the kitchen and he heard her going around his apartment. Mark followed and sighed.

"Maureen, stop taking her things. She's not going anywhere," he continued to protest. Maureen slung Julie's baby bag over her shoulder.

"Hey, Julie! Do you want to spend the weekend with Aunt Maureen?"

"Maureen, please, she's all I—"

Maureen pulled Julie out of his arms, throwing a rag over one shoulder and burping the infant, handing Mark her bottle. "Goodbye, Mark."

"Maureen—" but the door shut as Mark got one last look at his daughter for the weekend.

By six thirty he got no call. He was nervous as hell and now he knew why Mamma Cohen was as crazily protective. It was a parental thing, a thing he used to loathe and now he was one on one with it. He had been staring at his camera bag for a half hour and then out of impulse, he grabbed it and bolted out the door.

He went to Central Park and flipped on the camera for the first time in a year and a half. Charlotte never liked his infatuation with his camera. She thought it was a cute hobby, but anything more and he was wasting his time... _STOP! STOP THINKING ABOUT HER, MARK!_

It was refreshing. Maureen was right, and he hated admitting it. One reason was he being outside without the burden of work hanging over his head. The second was the fact that Julie was silent. There was no exhaustion and nerve of how to get his daughter to stop crying. He wasn't good at the whole father thing and lately he had been looking ahead.

What if she asked about her mother, what would he say? Would he ever remarry? Date again? How would he afford college and parenting alone? He kept having the same nightmare each night.

He was running and there was a light at the end of a tunnel. He was trying to reach it and when he got close, Julie would wake him up by crying.

Opportunity was lost.

Nothing else mattered but his daughter.

His future was nonexistent.

His life didn't matter, only Julie's did.

… But back to filming.

Scanning from the street musicians to people walking by and couples holding hands, his camera lens landed on a brunette flipping through papers, thick-rimmed glasses and a pencil behind her ear. Then a gust of wind and her papers went everywhere. One covered the camera lens as she scrambled to grab all of them.

Mark grabbed the paper and grabbed a few others that were near him. He didn't mean to look, but subconsciously noted that it was a manuscript. An editor? Or a writer? (i)Mark, why are you trying to figure out this girl? She's probably married, dating, and/or does not want complicated.(/i)

Just as he was looking up, she tripped over him trying to grab another paper. "Whoa, are you okay?" Mark asked grabbing the paper in midair.

He put the papers on the bench and put his camera over it as a paperweight.

"Yeah…" she began, trying to stand up and she yelped, slinking back to the ground. "Shit, no," she sighed, looking up.

Mark leaned down and helped her onto the bench. "You probably sprained your ankle."

"How do you—"

"I'm a klutz myself… a lot of broken bones, sprained limbs… That and my sister's a nurse and I was her test subject throughout medical school," Mark said with a smile earning a laugh out of the brunette. "Mark."

"Molly," she said with a smile. "My apartment is a block from here and I think I have an ACE bandage lying around… do you think you can help me?"

_Forward girl, Marky? My has your taste in women changed._ Maureen's sarcastic voice was stuck in his mind.

"Well I really have no choice, huh? You have my client's manuscript and I can barely walk so…"

"Uh… sure, let me just…" Mark slipped the manuscript in his camera bag with his camera and stood up, helping Molly up and he wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders letting her lean on him.

"Thanks…"

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**THOUGHTS OF MOLLY! PLEASE GIVE ME THOUGHTS. I don't want to continue or broaden the relationship until I get feedback. Review?**


	4. Were You Really So Blind,

_Disclaimer: I don't own, I REEEEEENT!_

Mark took her key and slid it in Molly's apartment door. Getting up the stairs was… fun, I guess. A hard situation, but they somehow maneuvered to the sixth floor without Molly saying 'ow' once.

"Thank you," she said with a sigh as she sat down on the couch and Mark slipped the manuscript out of his bag onto the coffee table.

"Do you have a roommate or someone to help you out?" Mark asked, not wanting to just leave her there. What would he tell people? 'I met this girl in the park and she sprained her ankle, I brought her home and left her'? Um… no? Why would he tell someone anyway?!

"Like a boyfriend? No."

"I didn't mean…"

"Okay," Molly cut him off with a smile. "Are you offering to help me more?"

"Where's the bandage, Molly?" Mark asked with a sigh.

"Third door on the right is the bathroom. It should be in the medicine cabinet," she added, taking off her glasses and throwing them on the coffee table, putting a pillow under her leg.

Mark went down the hallway lined with paintings. Was she a painter, too? A roommate? Why was he so interested? He counted the doors and he went into the periwinkle blue bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, pulling out the bandage and going back to Molly on the couch.

"And your kitchen is…?"

"Last door down the hallway. I think I left the door open," she said beginning to unravel the bandage.

Mark went and got a rag full of ice and came back and sat at the end of the couch putting the ice on her ankle. Molly sat up and winced.

"So you're an editor?"

"A procrastinator," Molly corrected with a small smile.

"And a painter?"

"Those are from high school. I went to school for English since my mom wouldn't pay for art. I dabble in anything really," she smiled and paused, looking over at his camera bag. "Filmmaker?"

"I guess… You know Buzz Line?" when she nodded his smirked and nodded his head. "Turn it on around eleven to six in the morning. Monday through Friday."

"Nocturnal, huh?"

"I try to be, but sleeping during the day isn't an option," his voice trailed off and he snapped out of it. He was never going to see this girl again, why was he nervous about mentioning his daughter? Like it would scare her?

"So… do you need anything else?" Mark asked.

"Your number would be nice," Molly answered with a small flush in her cheeks and Mark wondered if it was from the breeze coming through the open window or she was truly embarrassed of being to forward. "I owe you for helping me… and, once I get up, if I realize you took something from my kitchen or bathroom or a page is missing from the manuscript, I'll need to contact you."

Mark rolled his eyes and grabbed a paper off the coffee table and wrote down his number. "Goodbye, Mark," she said with a smile as he left.

"Bye."

He felt… anxious. Like he was a schoolgirl who just hooked up in the courtyard and was anxious to tell a friend about the ordeal. So he went to Maureen's… for his kid.

He walked in the unlocked door to see Joanne making faces at giggling Julie and Roger and Maureen fighting over who would win in a fight; Jerry Springer or Maury.

"Jerry Springer's got the practice, there's women taking their tops off on that show all the time!" Roger protested.

"And Maury's got the crazy people. The mind, man, it's all about the mind."

"I come here to pick up my daughter and your talking about topless women and crazy people. Remind me to add that to the con side of my Pros and Cons list of why you shouldn't babysit my daughter," Mark announced and Joanne looked up smiling.

"Rough day, Mark?"

"Look at his face, he's beaming. I say it was a good day, huh?" Maureen squealed.

"Oh God, he met a chick."

"One-year-old is present," Mark answered, taking Julie from Joanne and sighing as she ripped off his glasses.

"So give us the G-Rated Disney version," Roger answered, going over and sitting on the stool in the kitchen.

"There's no R-Rated version or anything, but a G-Rated version… why am I talking to you about this?" Mark stuttered, playfully fighting Julie for his glasses back. "Come on, kid, I can't see," he whined.

Julie giggled and tried, but failed to put the glasses back on her father's face.

"So you met someone?"

"Who I probably won't see again."

"What's her name?" Maureen asked with a grin.

"Molly."

"So you can have the M&M nickname again!"

"Maureen—" Mark began.

"Don't make me gag, that was horrible!" Roger added.

"Stop," Mark whined.

"What happened? How'd you meet her?" Maureen asked in excitement.

Roger held out his arms for Julie and Mark handed his daughter off to Roger who bounced her up and down on his knee.

"She tripped and sprained her ankle so I helped her home… Why does it matter?"

"Wait, she tripped out of no where?"

Mark continued as he took the cup of coffee Joanne was handing him, nodding in a thank you. "She's an editor and her papers went everywhere so I caught a few and she tripped trying to get another and—"

"And you helped her home? Such a gentleman," Maureen teased.

"Was I supposed to leave her on the ground?" Mark asked.

"Don't listen to her, it's sweet," Joanne answered, smacking Maureen on the ass.

"AGAIN! There's a one-year-old present. Jesus."

"So will you hear from her again?"

"She has my number…"

"WHAT?!" Maureen squealed and Roger looked up in annoyance.

"She wanted my number… jeez, it's not going to work out anyway," Mark replied, taking a long chug of his coffee and taking Julie back in his arms.

"Why not?" Roger asked confused.

"Even if I do talk to her again, once she finds out there's a package deal she won't want to be involved. Besides, I still have the court date coming up," Mark looked over to Joanne.

"Everyone's booked, but if I move my trial, I'll be free."

"You don't have to."

"It's an easy case, Mark. Charlotte left Julie alone, how could she earn custody?" Joanne reasoned and Mark sighed in response.

"Leave the child here, Mark."

"Can I stay at least?" Mark asked, torn up between leaving or staying with his daughter for at least another hour or so.

"Fine," Maureen reluctantly answered. "Only because she needs to be changed."

Mark rolled his eyes. "C'mon, kiddo."

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**As you can see, I update faster when I get reviews. I got three reviews and LOADS of Story Alerts. Molly's still there, babes. Thanks for the feedback. :) Review?**


	5. And Unkind to Him?

_A/N: Okay, the title name is "Unkind to Him" and it's just the next lyric. I TRIED to tie it in and maybe it is. Maybe you can make the connection and it's there, but sorry to disappoint. I try to be consistent, but I guess I came up short this time around._

_Disclaimer: I don't own, I REENNNTT!_

* * *

As Mark grabbed the diaper bag, Roger followed him into the bathroom. "Hey, Mark?"

"You want to change her? I knew you loved Julie, but I didn't know this much," Mark said with a smirk and Julie gurgled, giggled and shoved her hands in her mouth. "Hey, no doing that until your hands are washed. In this place, who knows where those hands have been, missy."

Julie whined in protest and squirmed in Mark's arms.

"No, I was actually um… can I move back in? With you guys—" Roger began, closing the door behind him and Mark turned to see Roger sitting on the edge of the tub.

Things were quiet and Mark glanced over at his best friend again. "What happened?"

"I don't want to stay here. You know I hate—" he saw Mark's face and sighed. "Don't get along with Maureen and I'm feeling better, nothing contagious. The all-night rowdiness coming from the MoJo bedroom makes me want to gag and…" his voice trailed off.

As Mark put a fresh clean diaper on Julie, he looked over. "And?"

"And I don't have much time left…"

Mark froze. His face was paler than normal, his heart skipped a beat, his mind went through thousands of scenarios a mile a minute, and Julie squirmed in discomfort.

"Mark, the doctor said I have nothing to worry about, but he said the same thing to Collins and for weeks Collins knew it. He felt it—"

"Stop."

"Mark, it's inevitable okay, and I kind of believe Collins… I mean, he had a feeling it was going to be the end and—"

"Roger, stop…"

"And he made the best of it. Doctor's are quacks they don't know anything…"

"Roger."

"I can feel myself getting weaker and I can't stay up past midnight, what's that about, I always—"

Mark turned toward Roger who immediately shut up from the look on his face. "Not in front of my daughter."

Roger looked away and sighed. Mark turned back to Julie who was looking up at the ceiling as if God were up there, pure amazement and wonderment was written across her face.

"Mark?"

"Please don't."

"Can I move back in with you guys?"

Mark picked Julie up who was yawning and opened the bathroom door. And there, to his misfortunate sight, Joanne and Maureen were all over each other on the couch. "Yeah, we're going now."

Roger smirked. "I'll meet you there."

In less than ten minutes, Mark put Julie back in her crib at home and turned off all the lights in her room, plugging in her teddy bear nightlight and closing the door. He fell back on the couch, covering his face in his hands.

"You have three messages."

Mark jumped at the sound of Roger's voice. "God, I can never hear you come through a door. You're like liquid man, for Christ's sake."

Roger smirked and put his bag down. "Mimi used to say that…"

"Another bedroom story to keep to yourself," Mark added and Roger rolled his eyes, pressing the answering machine button and turning the volume down.

"_Mark, it's mom. How's Julie doing? I haven't seen her in so long. Maybe we should visit soon! Call back, please, hunny. We love both of you. Call._"

BEEP.

"_Mark, it's Charlotte. Stop ignoring my calls, I know your home sometime, you have to sleep—_"

Roger skipped to the next message and Mark muttered a thank you.

BEEP.

"_I know what you're thinking…_" **Molly.** "_It's too early to call, right? Normally I'm the kind of person who doesn't call back, but since I asked for your number, I think it's a different scenario._" Roger's face perked up and he looked over at Mark with a teasing grin. "_I__ still owe you for helping me today… Tomorrow's Sunday. You said you're free from work on the weekend, right? Is Sunday night okay? Nine o'clock? My place? Call back or just… show up. Bye, Mark._"

"HOLY SH—"

"SHHHHH!!" Mark warned, noting his sleeping daughter in the next room.

"Shit, man," Roger switched to a whisper. "Are you going?"

"No, I'm not going."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"YES!"

"SHH!"

"You are."

"I have no one to watch Julie," Mark protested and Roger raised his hand volunteering.

"We're roommates again, you can dump chores on me now," Roger reasoned and Mark sighed.

"I might…"

"You should!"

"I might, Roger, lay off it." He went toward the bathroom to take a shower and Roger rolled his eyes flipping on the television set.

"You're going, Cohen. You know you are.

He took showers more and more frequently. One reason being that Julie loved to spit up and another reason being the steam. Clouding a room with steam relieved all the stress he had built up and he relaxed for the rest of the night or for the time being.

After his shower, Mark came into the living room and saw Roger drinking a beer (which Mark didn't buy/own) and handing one to Mark.

"Truth or dare?"

"What has Maureen done to you?"

"Just pick, Mark," Roger answered and Mark sighed, sitting on the couch and turning down the television, taking a small swig of the beer to get his mind off of stress, I guess.

"Truth."

"Why do you really not want to go tomorrow?" Roger asked with a smirk.

"Dare," Mark answered and Roger chuckled.

"Call Molly right now and tell her you're coming," Roger answered.

"Truth," Mark desperately answered and Roger smirked.

"Those are your two choices."

"I'm not playing," Mark reasoned and fell silent as he flipped news channels. Roger rolled his eyes and after a few minutes of silence, Mark spoke up. "Because I'm a father… with a crazy ex-wife, a daughter who is adorable to the naked eye, but she's nearing the toddler age and is a hassle, a lesbian ex-girlfriend, an overprotective mother, a best friend that's dying right in front of me and I can't do anything about it which is driving me nuts, and a job that sucks and I'd rather jump off a cliff rather than do another segment on compulsive bowlers."

Roger was silent for a long time. Ten minutes at least. Mark helplessly looked at Roger who looked away.

"You're also nearing thirty and have no love life. You have no ying to your yang or whatever that shit is. You have no one who truly makes you happy besides your daughter who will be asking about her mother soon, Mark, and you don't have a replacement. You need the help after I'm gone and who knows how long Maureen is going to last here with Joanne, who's on the brink of a promotion which will move her to some other yuppy upscale city. You need an escape from this father life. You're reading parenting books and soon enough you'll be learning ballet and how to sew. You NEED an escape, Mark," Roger paused and Mark looked over. "Call her."

"That's a truth AND a dare, that's not fair," Mark whined and Roger rolled his eyes, grabbing the cordless phone and holding it out to the filmmaker, who eyed him once or twice and then reluctantly took it.

He called Molly back and let it ring for a minute before she picked up.

"Hello, Molly? It's Mark…"

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**Everyone loves Julie. I'm sorry I put her to bed in this chapter, but I want to build up on the Roger/Mark thing (No Slash Included) and I'll broaden the Julie thing out before the trial, TRUST ME. Julie, although fictional, loves her fame. Thanks. :) Review?**


	6. Can't Help the Itch

_Disclaimer: I don't own, I REEEEENT. I do own Molly and her background as well as the Cutie Julie and Witchy Charlotte. _

"You're wearing that?"

"It's what I always wear…?" Mark answered looking down at his dark jeans and white button down shirt with a dark grey vest.

"Dude, you're going over in, what, ten minutes?" Roger asked from behind his guitar. He was sitting on the bed in the guest room, seeing Mark pass down the hallway after putting an already asleep Julie into her crib.

"So…?"

Roger smirked and put his guitar down. "Going over a chick's house at night means one thing… think hard."

"Roger, I highly doubt it's not for—"

"Sex? Oh, my friend, it most certainly is. No chick asks for your number and calls with an invitation to her apartment when she doesn't have a roommate," Roger laughed.

"It may involve some alcohol first, so be forewarned, Mark," Roger continued. "Now normally I'd ask if you have a condom, you know where it goes, but you know—you already have a kid and you dated Maureen, so you've obviously had some kind of experience."

"Goodbye, Roger," Mark answered, shutting the guest room door.

He was there in a half hour or so, not too on time, but not early either. He was nervous and Roger's voice was shoved in his head. Shouldn't he be nervous? She still knew nothing about what she, or he, was getting himself into. But Molly was… confident. That much he can see from the beginning.

He heard music coming from the apartment as he knocked on the door. Was that a violin? Oh it was. Did she do everything? The doorframe was covered in Christmas lights. The music abruptly stopped when Mark knocked and the door swung open and Molly was…

Dressed in a perfect… it was indescribable what came over him. Lust? No. Love? No. Hope? Possibly? He couldn't pinpoint it. She was literally wearing the perfect sweater dress. Not clingy, like Maureen would wear, but not baggy. She was confident in her own skin. Some things never change.

"Mark?" she questioned with a smirk. "Stop drooling," she added with a smirk and opened the door wider for him to come in. Again; she was confident.

"So you play the violin… and your festive two months before Christmas," Mark answered.

"Viola actually…" Molly said with a smile. "So that's five things you know about me and I know two about you."

"Five?"

"I play viola, I'm like the department stores and decorate for Christmas way too early, I'm a klutz, I'm an editor, and I paint," Molly elaborated. "And you're a filmmaker for Buzz Line with a sister who's a nurse." She went across the living room and grabbed a martini glass, taking a sip. This was… formal.

"Do you want something to drink?" Molly asked and Mark shook his head.

"Your ankle looks better," Mark noted, seeing her walking fine.

She flushed and smiled. "I guess so…" She sat on the couch and he did too. "So, tell me three things about you so we're even," she said with a smile, leaning her elbow on the back of the couch.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well you're not an only child, what about your mom and dad?" Molly asked with another sip of her martini.

"My mom is the regular stereotype of a protective Jewish mother," Mark began and Molly smiled.

"So you're Jewish…"

"You can't tell? You have to be joking…" Mark answered and Molly giggled and shook her head. "Yeah. 'Albino Jew Dork' should be carved on my grave stone."

"What about your dad?" Molly asked mid-giggle.

"In and out of the picture. He doesn't like that I dropped out of college to pursue filming, but seeing that I'm somewhat successful, he's… civil with me," Mark chose his words carefully. Again, leaving Julie and especially Charlotte out of an elaboration over his success, or in this cast unsuccessful path that his father was somewhat proud of.

"And your sister, she's a nurse?" Molly continued and Mark nodded.

"Married a surgeon. He actually comes in handy when I break a leg or a bone or something. They are the ideal family to put in a picture frame; one daughter, one son, a baby on the way. Successful family and I'm just… their crazy dorky wishy-washy uncle who won't succeed in the medical area since I faint at the sight of blood," Mark finished and Molly held back a laugh. "No, let it out, it's fine. I get it a lot." She smirked and shook her head.

"So that was way more than five things about myself, now you tell me more," Mark answered and Molly took a long sip of her martini setting the empty glass on the coffee table.

"I'm a nerd," Molly said with a smile, tucking her legs underneath her. Mark rolled his eyes and she nodded, pulling out a photo album from the table drawer. "Tape on the bridge of the glasses, study nerd, I never went to one dance or football game. I was too busy studying and let me just say I wasn't that smart. I was tenth in my class."

"What about your family?"

"I'm an only child and… my mom died on Christmas Eve when I was thirteen… That's why I celebrate early," Molly looked down and laced her fingers with her own. "My dad calls when he can, but he hasn't been the same ever since and I worry about him… a lot more lately."

"I'm sorry…" Mark was at a loss for words.

She looked up and smiled. "It's fine. I'm okay. Not exactly ecstatic, but stable…" she paused for a minute and then looked away for a second.

"So when did you start the violin?"

"Viola… when I was in fourth grade, I picked it up and my father is an orchestra teacher. My mom used to play the cello so I play when I'm anxious or nervous. It's like a security blanket, you know? You probably film, I paint or play viola or read… obsessively."

"You're an editor."

"That's how I get paid, yeah, I don't enjoy it, but I don't hate it. It's something I'm good at that I can get a decent salary for. Something to pay the bills, you know?" she paused and grabbed the martini glass, getting up and going to grab another drink. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"Maybe one drink won't hurt…" Molly smiled.

By midnight they had talked for hours. Julie still hadn't been brought up and neither had many of Molly's secrets, so they still picked and chose which things to say and what would scare the other away. And then Julie put in an old black and white scary film,_ The Birds_. Of course it interested Mark because of how film has changed over the years and Molly hated scary movies.

Mark had to laugh. The unrealistic villain(s) and the actions of the protagonists were far fetching and ignorant. Molly, however, hated birds since one 'attacked' her when she was little. Nonetheless, Molly was clinging to him the entire movie and by the end, they had fallen asleep.

Mark woke up with his arm hanging off the couch and Molly next to him, his arm around her waist. He rubbed his eyes and sat up slightly as she groaned, shifting over.

He blinked again, looking around for his glasses. He found them on the floor and slid them on, looking around for a clock. Twelve-thirty… TWELVE-THIRTY?! "Molly?"

She mumbled something and sighed. "Molly, I have to go…"

"What time is it?" she mumbled into the pillow.

"Twelve-thirty," Mark answered and she shot up.

"SHIT!" she bolted to her room.

Mark sat up slowly and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Shit, shit, shit," Molly repeated, running around her apartment. "I was supposed to meet her an hour ago! An hour ago! I had everything planned out and—"

"Do you need me to help you?" Mark asked and she looked up, rubbing her forehead.

"No, I'll just—lie. Sick, flu-ish. It's allergy-season, right?" she asked herself, going to the phone. "Hello? Yeah, I need to um… cancel, yeah. I'm coming down with something, I think it's the season-change," she forced her voice to sound muffled and weak. "I'll let you know. Oh, you're visiting someone anyway, huh? Well… yeah, that's fine, how long are you in the city for?"

Mark went and grabbed his shoes and coat, but Molly silently pantomimed for him to wait.

"Two weeks, okay! Well, I'll call you tomorrow to meet up somewhere… okay, thanks… bye," Molly hung up the phone and looked over at Mark. "That manuscript I've been reading religiously. I was supposed to meet the author and I missed it, but she's in the city for two weeks, so I'm off the hook, I guess."

"Sorry…"

"It's not your fault," Molly went over to the door. "It's not mine either, it's that damn Hitchcock." Mark rolled his eyes. "I'll call you later," she added and she looked up at him.

Time stood still. Their eyes locked for a moment. Both of them leaned in as if their lips were about to meet and then Mark pulled away. "Bye…"

Molly seemed disappointed and she nodded, opening the door. "Bye, Mark…"

"Well, look who's coming in at one in the afternoon. Last night was good, huh?" Roger greeted him as he came through the door. He was setting Julie on the floor and she crawled over toward her blocks.

"I fell asleep there," Mark answered, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning down to press a kiss to Julie's head. She giggled and looked up with an almost toothless smile.

"After some hot—"

"My daughter's here, Rog," Mark warned. "No, nothing happened. We watched a movie and we talked and I fell asleep. I drank too much though…"

"So then why were you still there all morning?" Roger asked, picking up his guitar and strumming a few chords as Mark went into his bedroom, grabbing clothes.

"I woke up at twelve-thirty. I've been exhausted from… work and Julie and… it was nice to sleep in, even though her couch is incredibly hard," Mark answered and Roger laughed.

"So are you calling her?"

"Not now… besides, she said she'd call me again, anyway," Mark was interrupted by a knock.

He sighed and went to the door. "Maybe it's Molly. Maybe she followed you home," Roger said with a grin and Mark rolled his eyes.

He went to the door and opened it as the knocking continued, but looking up he saw the blonde-haired, blue-eyed bombshell…

"Charlotte?"

"Hi, Mark."

* * *

**Cliffhanger! I know. Happy Halloween, if I don't update before then. RIP SPRING AWAKENING! First RENT, now Spring Awakening... damn. **

**That was off-topic. So how do you like? Julie's background and personality will come out soon, don't worry. I have her first step chapter planned out already and more Molly. Opinions? Comments? Concerns? REVIEW! :)**


	7. To Touch To Kiss

_Disclaimer: I don't own, I REEEEENT. (I do own Charlotte, Molly, and Julie.)_

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mark asked and Charlotte made a step forward for the door, but Mark stepped in her way.

"I want to see my daughter," Charlotte answered. Mark's blood boiled and he stepped forward, shutting the door behind him. "I have 911 on speed dial."

"Leave," Mark answered and Charlotte rolled her eyes. "I am dead-fucking serious, Charlotte. You don't need to be here. You don't want to be here. It's not fair to Julie—"

"It's not fair to Julie if she doesn't see her own mother!" Charlotte cut him off.

"You didn't care a year ago!" Mark raised his voice. "You're here so you can't say you never tried. You tried once, right now. And a monthly check I didn't cash doesn't count!"

"Let me see my daughter, Mark!" Charlotte yelled back.

"You can see her in court in three months, Charlotte," Mark yelled back.

"You can't keep me from seeing my own daughter!" Charlotte took a step back.

Mark stood there helpless. If he didn't let her come in, she'd use this against him in court and who knows? The crazy bitch could bring a cop to the apartment. That's not good for Julie.

If he let her come in, she could use Roger's presence against him in court, an ex-druggie with HIV? The judge could believe anything…

"Fine…" Mark stepped back and held the door open a little wider. Charlotte came in and Mark followed in behind her.

Roger was helping Julie stand up and she giggled, looking up at him. Roger looked over when he heard the door shut and his face fell when he saw Charlotte. Mark shook his head from behind his ex-wife and shrugged helplessly.

Mark went over and picked Julie up, turning to Charlotte. "You saw her. You can leave," he attempted and Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"You're acting younger than Julie…"

"How old is she, Charlotte? You missed her first birthday," Mark shot back.

Charlotte glanced at Roger. "Hi, Roger."

He didn't answer. Which is why Mark let Charlotte come in. Roger wouldn't take any of her shit and if something did happen, Roger would be the one to do something and pretty much read Mark's frustration to kick her out.

"Can I hold her for a minute, Mark?" Charlotte asked, looking up at him. When Mark hesitated she looked down. "Let's not fight in front of her, okay?"

Mark's blood was boiling. Let's not fight!? It was inevitable. She was trying to "be the good person". He hated that excuse. She realized she was wrong and is now desperate to ruin Mark's life by ruining Julie's in the process.

Charlotte smiled down at Julie when her daughter was in her arms. "Is her room still in the same place?" Charlotte asked, looking up.

Mark didn't answer at first and Charlotte sighed. "She's yawning. I'll put her down for a nap and then I'll leave," she cheekily promised. Mark led her to the nursery. Charlotte put her in the crib and Julie immediately sat up and whined.

"Nothing's changed, huh?" Charlotte asked, recollecting all the sleepless nights of Julie's insomnia.

Mark shook his head and grabbed the blanket Maureen had gotten her on her first birthday, going over to the crib and handing it to his daughter. She choked on her own sobs and Mark helped her open up the blanket. When she still whined and looked up at Mark, he rubbed her forehead.

Charlotte looked over as Mark went to the door. "Rog, naptime," Mark called and Roger came in with his guitar.

Mark went to the door to leave and looked back at Charlotte. "She won't N-A-P with more people in the room. I've tried," Mark warned. Charlotte kissed Julie's forehead and left the room.

When Mark shut the door, Charlotte followed him in the living room where he was picking up blankets, pillows, and toys and of course Roger's cups of coffee everywhere.

Charlotte stood in the doorway and leaned against the wooden frame. "So Maureen's the answering machine last time I called and Roger sings her a lullaby, but what happens when he's not around anymore?" she asked, noting the AZT bottle on the coffee table.

Mark stopped and turned to her. That was enough. He threw the blankets, cups, everything on the couch, and some ceramic mugs didn't make the fall.

"Get out." Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "I'm serious! I'm sick and tired of you! Popping into her life, popping out, then fighting me for custody?! You don't want Julie. You can't HANDLE Julie, so step off and get the hell out of here.

"And to talk about Roger, god dammit. He's helped me a hell of a lot more than anyone! If that's all you have against me, then use it. Don't try and get custody of our daughter in spite of me. Do you know that she hasn't said her first word? Taken her first step on her own? What he favorite game is, or what time she gets cranky? No. You don't care, Charlotte." Mark finished and Charlotte slammed the door behind her.

* * *

"Should I get the phone?" Roger yelled and Mark shook his head.

"Don't bother," he answered with a laugh as Julie squirmed and giggled. It was two o'clock and Julie woke up from her nap. Mark just finished changing her diaper and was now tickling her to death.

She whined and giggled in protest. Mark smirked and picked her up, raising her up high and then lowering her down to blow a raspberry on her cheek. She giggled wildly and reached her arms down when Mark lifted her up again.

"Ehh!" she whined and pouted.

"She could beat Mimi's pout with that face," Roger answered from the doorway.

Mark looked over with a small grin and cradled Julie in his arms, but she ripped off his glasses and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, grabbing the glasses and putting them back on.

"Gah," she whined.

"Gah?" Mark questioned and Roger rolled his eyes.

"You're a geekier dad than a boyfriend. You and Maureen were disgusting." He knew not to mention Charlotte, though that was almost as bad as Benny was with Alison. He acted like she was a goddess.

"Thank you?" Mark answered with a eyebrow quirk.

"Mark? It's Molly… You left you're um… wallet here. I guess it fell out of your jacket. You said you were working today, so you can pick it up tomorrow or something… or I can drop it off, you told me around where you live…" She paused and seemed embarrassed. "I'm not good at voicemail, so yeah… bye."

Roger laughed and Mark rolled his eyes. "I could've sworn I had my wallet with me…"

"Well you took off for the day, why don't you go get it and I'll watch the kid?" Roger suggested.

"Nah, I want to spend the day with Julie. Besides, I don't need my wallet until tomorrow," Mark answered and just then, thunder boomed and the lights flickered. Julie burst into tears and cries and Roger and Mark glanced at each other.

"I'll get the candles."

"I'll get the matches."

Mark hushed Julie and rocked her back and forth, pulling out a huge Ziploc bag of candles. "How is it that I've gotten a decent paying job, and a decent apartment and I still don't have flashlights?" Mark questioned aloud and Roger laughed, coming into the kitchen.

"I'll take the candles, you shut the baby up," he said, grabbing the Ziploc bag as the lights went out.

Julie whimpered and Mark somehow found the couch, sitting down. "Shh, it's just rain," Mark cooed and Julie buried her face into his shoulder, standing up in his lap. He rubbed her back soothingly and her legs went weak. Mark cradled his daughter in his arms.

Roger came in with a candle and there was a knock at the door. "God damn—Roger, get the door," Mark called from the couch and Maureen's voice flooded the apartment.

"I was coming to steal the kid while Mark was at work and then the power went up while I was coming up the stairs, but I can still—ah crap he's home!" Maureen squinted behind candlelight.

"Good, be useful and put some candles everywhere. Maybe some light will help Julie relax," Mark answered and Maureen mimicked him in a nasally voice as she obeyed.

After the living room was illuminated with candles, Mark set Julie on the floor with a teddy bear and leaned back in the couch keeping a close eye on his daughter. Roger was frustrated with the song he couldn't truly find in his mind. Maureen was bored, but luckily brought nail polish.

An hour or so passed and it was still dark. Mark heard a crash outside his door and looked over at Maureen. "I'm not getting that! It's a stormy night and there are loud noises out there. Have you never seen a horror movie?"

Mark sighed and hesitantly got up, going to the door as there was a faint 'ow' along with numerous curses. He opened the door and his heart skipped a full beat.

"Molly?!"

* * *

**Suspense again! :) Review? Next chapter is written. I'll post it when I get three-five reviews.**


	8. To Hold Him Once Again

_Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, but I do own Molly, Charlotte, and Julie. :)_

Molly was on the ground and looked up at Mark when the door opened and the dim light of the candles illuminated the hallway.

Mark went to shut the door, panicking slightly and Molly looked up. "It's too dark out here to close the door, just leave it open for a second," she said quickly. He sighed and went to help her up.

"What're you doing here?" Mark asked, kneeling next to her when she motioned to her ankle.

"Ow, don't touch it… I'm clumsy, which you know already, and I was on my way anyway and the lights went out in the lobby and I thought I could maybe make it up the stairs, but—Mark, don't touch my damn ankle," Molly warned, wincing in pain.

"The lights went out over an hour ago…" Mark answered, only half listening.

"I know, I—"

"I meant why are you here, here… not on the ground," Mark saved her from embarrassment.

"You left your wallet and I left a message, but then I saw you weren't at work because believe it or not, I flipped on Buzz Line and I thought I could drop it off… Mark, what did I say about touching my ankle?!" He held his hands up in fake surrender and she winced a smile. "I think it's actually hurt this time."

"This time?" Mark looked up at her and she looked down.

"Can you help me up and—"

Mark stood up and braced himself. As he helped Molly up, he thought of different excuses he could use for not letting her come in. Nothing came up. It was a storm, there was no power, she lived ten blocks from him, and the odds were against him keeping her away from the truth.

He shut the door behind him and Mark sighed, hearing Maureen and Roger talking.

"She just came here and was like 'I want to see her' and Mark was all 'Hell no' and then I didn't get the rest because it was naptime." If you were listening in on the conversation it would seem very weird.

"That bitch," Maureen finished.

"Maureen get off the couch," he called before he went into the living room. Once rounding the corner, Maureen and Roger's conversation stopped. "Maureen, this is Molly, and that's Roger and Julie."

Molly quietly said hello and Maureen was going to begin her interrogation, but Roger got up. "Hey, Maureen, let's get the chick some ice, that ankle doesn't look good," he said and Mark muttered a thanks. He took Julie and Maureen into the kitchen two rooms away.

Mark helped Molly on the couch and propped up her leg with a few pillows. "Your roommates?" Molly asked.

"Best friend and ex-girlfriend," Mark answered.

"Are they married?"

Mark smirked. "On the contrary, they loathe each other. I'm shocked I didn't walk in on them battling it out on the coffee table over an unfinished game of arm wrestling."

"So then Julie—"

Mark took in a deep breath. "Is… my daughter," he answered quietly and glanced up.

"With Mau—"

"No, with my ex-wife…" Mark finished as Roger returned with some ice.

"Thanks… You left Maureen alone with Julie?" Mark asked, looking up.

"Relax, she's just feeding the kid, what's the worse that can…" he paused and then stopped. "You're right, I'm on that…" and he quickly disappeared.

Mark put the ice on Molly's ankle and she sat up as he added pressure to it. "Roger and I used to be roommates and then I got married, his girlfriend passed away and we went our separate ways. I went on a business trip in Chicago," Mark got up and put a candle closer by the coffee table so he could see Molly's ankle before continuing.

"And I came home to my wife leaving for Europe… She said I wasn't home enough and I should get a taste of my own medicine. So I tried it on my own until bedtime and Julie wouldn't stop crying. She'd crawl out of her crib and she wouldn't sit still, so I called Maureen," he stopped and sighed. "To make a long story short, a year passed and I'm a single father."

Molly looked up slowly and grabbed his hand from her ankle, somewhat because her ankle was in pain and to grab his attention. "Why didn't you tell me? We talked for—hours and maybe I talked more than you, but why didn't you—"

"Just take a guess," Mark answered, looking up at Molly. "While your talking about painting or editing or something, I'd bring up the fact that I have a court date coming up and it's over custody of my daughter because my crazy ex-wife suddenly wants to be in her life and ruin mine."

Molly's gaze shifted to Julie crawling on the floor and Mark picked her up. He heard Roger and Maureen talking quietly, probably about Charlotte or Molly, and Julie whined, burying her face in Mark's shoulder.

"You can stay here tonight if the rain doesn't pass and the power doesn't come back on. I'm pretty sure Maureen is, too," Mark said, rubbing Julie's back. She continued to whine and whimper and he pulled her back a little bit. "Hey, hey—where did Maureen put that damn teddy bear, huh?" he asked and she giggled grabbing his glasses.

"Kiddo, that doesn't help me," Mark said and Molly smiled along with Julie. She handed him the teddy bear that was on the floor.

"Is this it?" Mark took the glasses from Julie first before looking at the bear.

"Thanks." Julie reached out her hands and whined for the teddy bear. Julie took the arm of the teddy bear and climbed off of Mark's lap and onto the floor, holding herself up and half-hugging the teddy bear with one arm as she stared off down the hallway.

"She's adorable," Molly noted quietly.

"She's a handful," Mark corrected with a small smile. He watched her take a step and froze. Her tiny hand let go of Mark's knee and went to grip the couch. She took another step and stumbled slightly, but caught herself. "And she's also walking for the first time," the two watched in amazement as she made it to the hallway in a minute before Mark got up and picked her up, tickling her stomach and she giggled.

"I've been trying to get you to do that for weeks, Jules!" his daughter giggled wildly. Roger and Maureen must've heard the fuss and came in.

"What happened?"

"She walked all the way to the doorway," Molly answered.

Maureen smiled. "It's because I'm here. She heard my voice and she was walking to me."

Roger rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Mau."

"You know what, Roger?"

"No, I don't… What, Maureen? Enlighten me!"

Julie giggled and reached for Molly as if asking for more praise. Mark looked over and Roger and Maureen's bickering continued. Molly looked up and smiled slightly.

"Can I hold her?" she asked quietly and Julie began to whine, looking back at Mark in annoyance.

"Yeah, she seems to be friendly today…" Mark answered. Though she wasn't that friendly toward Charlotte, she was really fussy.

He walked over to Molly who was still stuck on the couch and he carefully handed Julie over to Molly, who immediately tickled her to death. Julie giggled wildly and threw her teddy bear on the floor in the process. Mark stood back for a second and just watched her.

Molly was laughing along with her and then looked up. "What?" she asked curiously and Mark shook his head. "I told you I was the neighborhood babysitter even if I'm an only child," she said with a smile, and then she winced. "Ow…"

"Your ankle?" Mark questioned.

She shook her head and tried to untangle her hair form Julie's grip. "Just a hair mishap."

"Heyyy!" Mark responded by helping her and pulling Julie off her lap. She burst into whines and screams and Mark sighed. "You were so quiet for so long…" he whined to himself. Grabbing the teddy bear off the floor, he walked past Roger and Maureen to the nursery.

"Rog, bedtime," he called, trying to keep the fussing Julie stable in his arms as she thrashed and cried.

Roger followed and grabbed his guitar on the way, leaving Maureen to interrogate Molly. Mark put his daughter in her crib and quickly turned it around, one of the techniques Maureen had taught him a year ago when Julie would climb out and have a tantrum. Roger sat down and started to play, but Julie wasn't having it.

"Come on, kid, this is your millionth concert, it's supposed to get easier," Roger whined.

"You can't reason with a one and a half year old, Rog," Mark sighed and kneeled by the crib, rubbing Julie's back and then feeling her forehead. "You gotta be kidding me."

"What?"

"She has a fever, that's why she's been bipolar today," Mark sighed and picked her up. "Wait, what the hell do you do with a toddler who has a fever?"

Roger looked up with a 'how the hell am I supposed to know' look and Mark groaned going into the living room, cutting Maureen off another question.

"We have a problem."

Molly looked over at Julie still trashing in his arms. "Is she okay?"

"She has a fever," Mark answered and Molly awed before holding out her arms. Julie was soon in her arms and she rocked and hushed her.

"Do you have children's Tylenol?" Molly asked as she rubbed her back. Maureen got up and got it. "Good, okay, and does she have a favorite blanket or something?"

Roger already had it in his hand. Mark wrapped Julie up in the blanket and Molly took her into her lap. Maureen came back with the medicine and her and Roger sat on the opposite arm chairs. Mark spoon-fed his daughter the medicine and luckily she took it without a fuss, gagging slightly and then choking on her own sobs.

"Shh, hey, you're okay—shh, don't cry," Molly soothed and Roger got up to grab the medicine to put away. Maureen had left as well and Mark bet it was on purpose. They had been popping in and out all night since Molly got here. Julie whimpered slightly, leaning into Molly and she rocked her gently.

"Maureen is one interesting person…" Molly noted quietly still rubbing Julie's forehead soothingly.

"I can't believe I left you alone with her."

"She dumped you for another woman, Mark…"

"Ahh, I knew that would come out in the open sooner or later," Mark sighed and sat on the edge of the coffee table rubbing Julie's hand soothingly in his own as she drifted off. "And her girlfriend is my lawyer," Mark finished.

Molly smiled slightly. "Mark Cohen, your life is unbelievable."

"You haven't met my mother," Mark answered and Molly stifled a laugh. The two watched Julie drifting off to sleep for a few minutes and then Molly looked up.

"But I'd like to…"

"What?" Mark looked up.

"Meet your mom… get to know you better… I keep falling into your life and learning a little more about you. I don't want to be this acquaintance who's a clumsy freak…"

"Molly, things are a little complicated right now and—"

Molly reached her hand out and took his hand. "You need help; more than your male roommate who seems to know just as much as men do and your ex-girlfriend," she paused and looked down at Julie. "Besides, she likes me and she'll be heartbroken if she never sees me again," Molly added with a smile.

"I want to be more than an acquaintance. Friends, fine, but just promise me I'll see you without needing you to help me up," Molly said letting go of his hand.

Mark paused and bit the inside of his cheek. "Who said you could let go?"

Molly looked up and smiled slightly before he grabbed her hand again.

* * *

**Review?**


	9. Now to Close his Eyes

_Disclaimer: "The sadness, the doubt, all the loss, the grief, will belong to some play from the past." AKA I don't own, I RENT._

"So you're NOT going to tell me why you were hanging out in the lobby for over an hour?" Mark asked with a smirk as he shut Julie's door. As he turned around, a pillow collided with the back of his head.

"I _told_ you, the power went out," Molly protested.

"Yeah, yeah, the power went out, but it went out an hour before you fell flat on your face in my doorway," Mark answered. Molly made a face and looked away. Mark rolled his eyes and sat in the armchair diagonally across from her. "Look—" Mark began his apology, but Molly cut him off.

"I was contemplating the options," Molly began. "Did I want to seem like a clingy freak or should I wait for your call, but I knew that waiting meant I'd never hear from you." Mark was the one to make the face now and Molly rolled her eyes. "You're a guy… it's like—engraved in your law code to ignore a call."

Mark hesitated before answering. "Touché."

Roger came in next, sitting down in the other armchair and he weakly smiled a hello to Molly. Maureen was freaking out to Joanne on the phone. "No I'm STUCK here, Joanne. I'm STUCK here… We could always—well… what're you wearing?"

Mark groaned and got up, running over to the phone, and pressing the receiver down and Maureen dramatically gasped. "You're not having phone sex on my phone," Mark prohibited bluntly. Maureen rolled her eyes and took Mark's spot on the armchair.

"Do you have that video?" Maureen asked, eyeing Molly uncomfortably. Mark instantly stood in front of her.

"Because I can read your mind… What video, Maureen?" Mark questioned and Roger looked over.

"If you're talking about a fucking—" he paused after Mark's need to clear his throat and winced a smile, "R-rated video, no one is interested."

"NO!" Maureen rolled her eyes and ran to find a flashlight. Mark sat on the floor next to Molly as the three of them watched Maureen bolt back with a flashlight. "You're going to love it," Maureen said with a grin, a tape behind her back and Mark got up to set up the equipment reluctantly.

Maureen handed him the tape and Mark glanced at it, smirked, showed Roger the label and continued his set-up. Maureen had the flashlight beneath her chin and she grinned, coughing out a mischievous laugh. "The night Bohemia died," she narrated.

"Mark was and still is quite the anarchist," Roger continued.

"SHUT UP, ROCKER BOY, THIS IS MY TURF!" Maureen bellowed and the entire room tensed before Mark heard Julie begin to whine.

"It's all set up. Hang a curtain on that wall, I'll be back," Mark said as he trudged off to his daughter's bedroom.

"That means you, Roger," Maureen ordered and Roger got up after flipping her the lovely bird behind her back, earning a giggle from Molly, before hanging up the sheet in the corner of Mark's apartment. Maureen delved deep into the tale, exaggerating as best she could.

"And the culprit was… none other than… our ex-landlord!" Maureen paused for dramatic effect, but Roger ruined her moment.

"And yuppy scum ex-roommate…"

"Roger…."

"What's up?"

"SHUT UP!"

"Whatever. He's an uptown man whore who loves to prey on little women. Ever heard of the Grey's, Molly?"

"The Westport Grey's?" Molly questioned.

"The bald son-in-law? That's our Benny," Roger said with a false grin, flipping on the movie.

Mark was seen addressing the group, belting out the first few condolences to their beloved and recently deceased Bohemia. Mimi and Angel appeared crying falsely as Mark came back in after quieting Julie.

"You okay, Rog?" Mark asked and everyone turned to see Roger getting out of his zone-out.

"Fine," he replied.

Mark sat back between Roger and Molly as the rest of the group was shown. "That's Collins and Mimi—and Angel," Mark began pointing people out as Molly listened and watched. "Steve, Ally, Pam—Sue… Joanne and—"

"ME!" Maureen squealed more quietly.

"I was going to say the fruity waiter, but yes, Maureen, you were there, too."

"(i)Mimi Marquez, CLAD ONLY in bubble wrap, will perform her famous lawn chair handcuff dance to the sound of iced tea being stirred!(/i)" Mark recited matter of fact.

"She looks so happy," Molly noted.

"Happy? I was an asshole that night," Roger brooded.

"An asshole, indeed," Mark said with a smirk. Before Roger could respond, Mark shushed him and pointed to the screen. "And Roger will attempt to write a bittersweet evocative song," Mark narrated aloud. As Roger belted out the chords of his 'bittersweet evocative song', Maureen booed and Roger smacked the back of her head.

"That doesn't remind us of Musetta's Waltz," Mark and Maureen recited in unison and Roger rolled his eyes.

"Is it MY fault that it's a good song?" Roger protested. "Hey, Molly, ever seen or heard of La Boheme?"

Molly shook her head. Mark paused the movie and everyone gasped. "What?!" she asked with a laugh. "Should I have?"

"That's what we'll watch next," Maureen said, turning around and waving her hand. "Keep it going, camera boy."

"An anarchist, indeed," Molly murmured with a smirk. "Dancing on a table? Mark with a daughter and a job like yours, I wouldn't expect this from you."

Roger snorted and Mark smacked his arm. "It was for the good of all struggling artists in New York or anywhere, for that matter…"

"INSPIRATIONAL, MARK!" Maureen said with a fake tear and sniffle.

"Shut up," he said, throwing a pillow at her.

"What happened to that guy, Mark?" Roger asked with a chuckle.

"He got married to a bitch," Mark said after a small ponder.

Roger ruffled his hair with a smirk and Mark rolled his eyes, swatting him away.

* * *

**Sorry it took so long to update! After watching Private Practice, Dell talking to Heather, I had inspiration to write another chapter. Quick Question: Do you want to see/read the custody trial? REVIEW!**


	10. Never Open Them

_Disclaimer: "The sadness, the doubt, all the loss, the grief, will belong to some play from the past." AKA don't own RENT or La Boheme._

Mark woke up at five thirty the next morning, after falling asleep at two. He heard remnants of Musetta's Waltz emanating from the living room and sighed, going to the living room to shut off the film that was left on.

He stepped over Maureen, who was sprawled out on the couch against the wall, passing by Roger's guest room, hearing him snoring loudly as usual, and he tiptoed to the television.

"I see we have power…" Mark noted from the television being on and not the film equipment.

"Don't turn it off," Molly murmured and Mark turned around. She was sitting upright on the pullout couch, wide-eyed as she paused the film.

"You're watching La Boheme…"

"We watched it before, but Maureen was talking, so I thought I'd—" she paused and blinked a few times, wiping her eyes tiredly. "Why are you up so early?"

"I have such weird work hours that any ounce of sleep or time of silence and I don't know how to handle it…" Mark confessed pathetically. It was true; he didn't know what to do with spare time. With Julie and the trial coming up along with his sketchy hours at Buzz Line, Mark wasn't used to free time.

"Well, Julie will probably be up soon, right?" Molly asked, moving over on the couch, patting the cushion next to her.

"Nope, she's the perfect daughter… she sleeps in. I have to wake her up or else she'd sleep all day," Mark noted and Molly smiled. "Why are you up?"

"Pain… I think I should walk it out eventually. I doubt it's broken, probably just a sprain," Molly shrugged and pulled a blanket over for him to share.

Mark moved to press play on the remote, when Molly's hand moved as well, the two holding both ends and releasing both ends when their hands touched. "Sorry…"

"No, it's my fault, I—"

"You can press play."

Molly obeyed and the singing resumed. She tilted her head to the side, taking off her glasses and watching intently. Mark watched her for a moment before resuming to the opera as well. "Rodolpho is such a tormented character," she muttered.

"Marcello is a sucker," Mark replied.

"And Mimi is perfect for him, but he just can't—see it, you know? And Musetta isn't even that bad for Mark." Mark scoffed and Molly smiled, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Musetta is flamboyant and flirtatious and true, she is unfaithful, but Marcello looks at her with such admiration and she can't live without him either."

"Moo," Maureen muttered in her sleep, rolling over and snoring louder, punching the side of the couch and grumbling in pain.

"Trust me, he can live without her," Mark muttered and Molly smiled.

"Angel and Colline, though… their relationship, however light it shows on the surface, you can tell Puccini meant for them to be together. It just wasn't accepted back then."

"The epitome of a strong relationship," Mark added.

"Exactly," Molly agreed and things got silent as Mimi confided in Marcello over her issues with Rodolpho as he was quietly listening off to the side. Mark got up and Molly looked over in confusion.

"I'm getting popcorn," Mark narrated halfway to the kitchen.

"This is more of a bucket of ice cream romance movie, Mark," Molly replied and Mark scoffed.

"Women," he rolled his eyes. "No ice cream," he said scanning the freezer, then the fridge. "What about cookie dough?"

"Sure, but um… any louder and everyone will wake up," Molly whispered more harshly.

"An atomic bomb would hit and Maureen would still be mooing in her sleep and Roger still dreaming of his rock star days. Hell, I could buy a drum set and play all night long and they'd sleep," Mark was talking in a normal voice, if not, louder and just louder snores followed.

He came back in with cookie dough, two spoons, two waters, and popcorn. "With a kid in the house, there is no alcohol to offer, however, I'm pretty sure the mini fridge in Roger's room is not filled with fruit…"

"This is fine," Molly said with a small laugh. She pressed play once again and leaned back against the cushions more, shifting to move her ankle and wincing.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine…" she winced and bit her lip. "Just uh—no, this is better, I'm fine," she shifted again and relaxed back into the opera. Toward the end, as Mimi slowly drifted and Rodolpho's optimism faded as he realized his love had perished, all noise from chewing and crinkling had ceased.

The camera panned to Musetta collapsing in Marcello's arms and Angel and Colline also mourning more subtly. Rodolpho fell to Mimi's side and cried for her to come back as the filmstrip skipped to an end and a white light followed the end of the film.

* * *

"Mark—" a voice faded in and Mark moved shifting on the surface, groaning and turning away from the light.

"How long has he been like this?" another voice.

"Give him a break, he never sleeps," yet another voice.

"Hey, back off, babe," Maureen… ugh.

"Maureen, stop being a bi—" Mark began, but she interrupted him.

"Your daughter's awake and roaming…"

"A butthead—" Mark correctly lamely. He rolled over and grumbled.

"I'm shocked you haven't gotten up sooner," Maureen muttered as Mark's vision cleared. "Molly was screaming for drugs this morning. Roger was against it, while I said, 'live a little'."

"Auntie Em, I had a dream—It was all so real. And you were there! And so were you! And you and you!" Mark mimicked and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Whoa, you're standing," Mark noted toward Molly standing upright.

"Yeah, I actually have a meeting with that bitchy author I was telling you about, so Roger helped me stand and walk it off. It still hurts a little, but I'll manage—somehow," Molly muttered.

Roger looked toward Molly, still weak on her feet and handed her a mug of coffee and Mark one as well. "Man, you still talk in your sleep," Roger boasted.

"Oh god…"

"First in high school it was, 'Nanetteeeeeee,' then it was 'Maureeeeennn,' and now it's all mumbled gurgles. You're turning into Julie," Roger laughed and picked up the toddler, blowing a raspberry on her stomach. She giggled wildly and trashed in his arms.

"Nanette…." Molly began and Maureen jumped in.

"Well, I got the story from Collins who got it from Roger who got it from Mark, so this isn't really a primary source, but—"

"So when's your meeting?" Mark questioned and Molly smiled.

"Three hours."

"I'll help you get home," Mark offered.

"Then I owe you three times—" Molly noted.

"Three—?"

"Once for the first clumsy trip, the second for not letting you go home after Hitchcock and then the third was last night and me staying here for… who knows how long."

"So that's a no…"

"Just call me, or I'll be a moronic idiot and leave sketchy messages for you to laugh at," Molly amended. "Goodbye, Julie," she waved goodbye and Julie hugged her leg, then waddled off to the kitchen where Maureen was trying to—cook?

"Bye, Roger. Nice meeting you."

"Can you—stop Maureen from whatever she's burning?" Mark asked Roger quickly.

"More like save your daughter from the depths of hell," Roger amended. "Nice to meet you, too!" he said as he ran to the kitchen. "WHAT'RE YOU DOING?!"

"BAKING!"

"BAKING WHAT?! YOUR BOOT?!"

"NO! GOD, ROGER, STOP IT!"

Mark walked Molly to the door and he opened it. She stepped outside and turned around. "Thanks for—helping me again," Molly said with a smile.

"No problem," Mark muttered awkwardly. Molly grabbed his hand and pulled him out in the hallway, shutting the door behind him. "Hi…?"

"It's kind of—inappropriate to kiss you in front of your daughter and I know, you said you don't want complicated, but really, there's not my baggage on my end, so I have plenty of room for yours and Julie is adorable—I have no problem with you being a—"

"Molly?" Mark questioned and she swallowed hard, looking away, her cheeks flushed.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." Their lips met and Molly hesitated before her arm wrapped around his neck and shoulders. She melted at his touch and stumbled slightly, breaking the kiss to wince. "Sorry," Mark muttered.

"No, I—can we—"

"Can we…?" Molly looked up at him and stepped forward, but he pulled back. "What're you doing?"

"Just—hold still," she cupped his cheek and looked at him for a long moment before their lips met again and she felt his arms slowly snake around her waist, pulling her closer. A slow fire began from her lips to her neck, down her spine, to her fingertips and toes. She pulled back with a small gasp and Mark pulled back immediately.

"I have to—go…" Molly hesitantly muttered, as if she were hypnotized by being this close and Mark let go of her waist. "I'll call…"

"You don't owe me anything anymore," Mark said as her back turned and she hesitated, smiled and went down the stairwell.

"YOU DON'T BAKE A WHOLE EGG IN A CAKE!"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW!?"

He stayed in the hallway until he heard the door shut at the very bottom of the stairwell. A small slam and then Mark opened the door, having Julie run into his arms. "What's up, beautiful?" Mark questioned and Julie whined.

"Are they fighting again?" Julie nodded and pouted. "How rude," Mark muttered and Julie smiled weakly, taking a fistful of his hair and curled against her father's chest.

He went into the kitchen and knocked on the doorframe. "Stop fighting, you're upsetting Julie," Mark said, tickling the whining infant.

Roger sighed heavily and Maureen began banging pots around as Roger hopped up on the counter. He looked over at Mark and then toward Maureen, then back at Mark. He grabbed the whisk in Maureen's hand and dropped it on the counter, pointing at Mark.

"He's beaming…" Roger said dazed.

"He's—He is," Maureen muttered, paused, and then squealed. "Is she a good kisser?"

Mark rolled his eyes, blushed and went into the living room, protecting Julie's ears from a conversation that would be held long after her bedtime.

"That wasn't an answer!"

* * *

**Review.**


	11. A Shadow Passed

_Disclaimer: I don't own, I rent._

"December 5th, 1995. The time is 10:00 AM." And so the custody battle began…

Maureen had Julie in her lap, sitting behind Mark and Joanne. Joanne finally got off of work, left her business trip two days before to be here for the trial. Molly couldn't come, the anniversary of her mother's death was tomorrow and she was going to visit her father for the week. Roger was sitting behind Joanne and Mark felt her look toward him.

"Again, it's easy—try and relax…" Joanne muttered to Mark and he nodded uneasily.

"Charlotte Dawson," the judge spoke her name evenly and Mark looked over toward Charlotte, who shifted in her stature. "You are suing for custody of your child, Julie Marie Cohen, correct?"

"Yes, your honor."

"You may sit." The judge hadn't made eye contact with anyone since sitting down. "And Mark Cohen, you have custody of the child, I am I right?"

"Yes, your honor." Mark felt his hand trembling, he heard Julie begin to whine behind him and Maureen attempt to hush him until Julie reached for Mark and then Roger took hold of the child, bouncing her up and down on his knee and calming her.

"You may sit," the judge muttered after a pause when Julie whined and Mark obeyed, sitting. "Alright, Mister… Palm, you may call your first witness."

"I'd like to call Ms. Charlotte Dawson to the stand, your honor." Charlotte approached the stand and glanced toward Mark with an unreadable and unpleasant expression.

"Would you care to explain your relationship with Mr. Cohen, Ms. Dawson?"

Charlotte shifted in her chair and tilted her head to the side as if confused. Mark looked down and Julie grabbed his sleeve.

"He is my ex-husband and the father of Julie," Charlotte seemed bemused; out of it… something wasn't right.

"Was the relationship between the three of you admirable?"

"Between the two of us, yes, but the three of us—not so much," Charlotte looked toward Mark who turned toward Julie to hold her in his lap, calming her quickly.

"Elaborate, please, Ms. Dawson," Mr. Palm asked, beginning his pace.

"Mr. Cohen was never around much as soon as Julie was born. He went on a business trip that I didn't agree with, when he knew I could use his help in new parenthood and he was gone for months."

"Where did the trip take him? Far away or close to home?"

"Is Chicago far enough?" Charlotte asked sarcastically and Maureen muttered profanities under her breath as Mr. Palm gave her a warning glance and the judge mimicked that glance.

"And when did he leave in comparison to the child's arrival home from the hospital?" Mr. Palm continued.

"It had to have been a month and a half…" Charlotte paused and confirmed, "six weeks because my mother visited that weekend."

"Within the time span that you were on your own with your daughter, did you face any trouble with finances or care for the child?" Mr. Palm questioned and Charlotte nodded immediately.

"I was on maternity leave and didn't have enough money. Times were tough as it was, money wise, and I wasn't used to taking care of a baby, let alone on my own!"

"What was the reason behind you leaving the day Mr. Cohen arrived home?"

"I was offered a job in Europe and we both agreed that for my job description it would be a good idea… more exposure… more experience," Charlotte's voice trailed off.

"And what experience were you looking forward to?"

"Objection," Joanne spoke, looking up from the notes she was taking diligently. "Relevance?"

"I agree, Mr. Palm, the fact that your client wished to earn new experiences from her travel is obvious, stick to the case."

"I'm sorry, your honor…" he paused and looked toward Charlotte. "No further questions," Mr. Palm seemed annoyed as the two sat down and Joanne stood up.

"Alright, Ms. Jefferson, you may call your first witness to the stand," the judge ordered.

"I'd like to call Mr. Cohen up to the stand, your honor."

Mark stood up and handed Julie to Roger, who took her and rocked her quietly. His throat felt swollen, his hands felt sweaty… he felt faint, but he somehow made it to the stand.

"Mr. Cohen," Joanne began and Mark looked up at her. "You are Julie's biological father, correct?"

"Yes," again his voice sounded strained and weak.

"How long ago was it that Ms. Dawson left your household?" Joanne asked and Mark shifted in his seat.

"A little under year and a half ago," Mark replied, his voice building confidence.

"Describe to me your return home from your business trip that evening," Joanne ordered and Mark swallowed.

"It was—seven o'clock that night and I took out my keys to open the door when it opened before I could turn the lock. Ms. Dawson was standing with her bags packed and she pushed past me. When I asked where she was going, she handed me a note and ran down the stairs. I was going to follow her when I remembered Julie. I saw her sitting on the floor in the living room alone crying."

"Was there a nanny there to take care of the child?"

"There were bottles of formula scattered around the apartment, but no one was there… it was like she was going to leave our daughter there with formula and some cans of baby food that she couldn't open before I came home…"

"And what did the note say?"

"That she couldn't handle it. I guess she meant parenthood… She wanted to give me a 'taste of my own medicine' at single parenthood. We were never really fit to be parents, we just fell into it."

"Meaning…?"

"We didn't want kids at the time and then it happened, so it was time to grow up. I took my old job back to earn money and when the internship came up, I didn't want to take it, but Charlotte—Ms. Dawson thought it was good for me. A promotion might be involved, etc."

"So you were against the idea of leaving your wife and new born child alone for some business internship, is that what you are saying, Mr. Cohen?"

"Yeah—well, I wouldn't want it done to me and since we both were in this a little shaky, I thought me helping would ease the tensions… She was tired after coming back from the hospital and Julie wouldn't sleep—ever… so we took turns in the beginning sleeping, but she could never sleep, so I took off of work and stayed home while Ms. Dawson went to work or her parents house… She told me she wanted to bond with the baby while I left, to give her time to get to know her daughter."

"No further questions," Joanne answered with a small victorious smile as she turned and the judge called for her second witness. "Maureen Johnson, would you care to explain your relationship with Mr. Cohen and the child?"

"I'm Mark's—ex-girlfriend and the second night after Charlotte left, Mark called me."

"And he asked for advice? For finances?"

"No, if he wanted money, he'd ask his parents!" Mark hung his head and bit his lip in frustration. "No, he um—Julie was hysterical in the background and Mark sounded—practically dead on the phone. He had no sleep from the night before and Julie hadn't either."

"What did he ask you, Ms. Johnson?"

"For help! The kid was crawling out of her crib, wasn't warm, wasn't sick, and didn't need to be changed, just exhausted and restless. I met his parents and his sister when we were dating…"

"Objection!" Mr. Palm stood and the judge looked up from his own notes. "Relevance?"

Maureen rolled her eyes and looked at the judge. "I swear it's going somewhere."

"Sustained."

"Thanks, so his sister has like—three kids and she had an ultrasound that weekend, so everyone went, but Mark, me, and the kids. So we babysat and he was a little awkward with the kids, like all men are, so I played with the kids a little, talked to them like people and not babies. We played dress-up and stuff."

"So Mr. Cohen, knowing from experience that you were good with children, called you to help him with the child?"

"Yep."

"Have you frequently went over to help him with the child?"

"All the time."

"Does he call and ask for the help, or do you take it upon yourself to visit Mark and the child?"

"Mark never takes breaks. He has weird hours for work and then he comes home to a restless kid. I help him take a break when he hasn't gotten sleep in weeks with Roger, his roommate."

"Thank you Ms.—" Joanne began, but Maureen cut her off.

"Cause he loves that kid. He won't take a break even for sleep or anything if Julie whines or cries or even moves an inch. He sticks to her like glue—he's a good dad, better than the one he had and better than mine. The kid is spoiled."

"Thank you, Ms. Johnson."

Maureen sat down in her chair and Mark looked toward Julie who was asleep in Roger's arms.

"No further witnesses, your honor."

"I will now call a recess and when we return, we will begin the cross-examinations." The judge looked up at Mark for a moment, then at Charlotte and then left the courtroom. Joanne shot a death glare to Maureen and looked over at Mark.

"Pookie, relax."

"Remind me never to question her in court."

"I did great."

"You put Julie asleep," Mark replied, taking the infant into his arms. Charlotte was looking at the two with longing eyes, and then glanced at Mark with a glare before turning to leave the courtroom herself. Mark's eyes followed her as she left until he saw Molly at the back of the courtroom. Charlotte stopped, looked at her and sat beside her as they began talking.

Molly's eyes frequently shifted to Mark's stare until he turned around.

"You were completely inappropriate and you babbled!"

"I didn't babble!"

"Guys, shut it, we're in a courtroom."

* * *

**Review, please. :)**


	12. Yearning, Yearning

_Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with RENT in any way, shape, or form. This was written for readers like you. Thank you._

Mark's eyes shot away from Molly and Charlotte conversing behind him. Roger seemed to notice the exchange he had with Charlotte and then saw his unexplained facial expression before his eyes, too, shifted to the back of the room.

"Whoa," was all he could say.

"Yeah," Mark replied quietly.

"Death anniversary, my ass," Roger grumbled looking back ahead. "Man, do you want to—"

"No." Going back and asking Molly what her problem was, was not going to make this go any faster. Julie began whining in his arms. "Since when did she wake up?" Mark grumbled. "I'll be back," Mark said, leaving the courtroom and passing Molly and Charlotte before he left the room to quiet Julie.

Julie began writhing in his arms, pulling at his tie, shifting in his grip, and whining louder. He sat her on a bench outside the room and kneeled in front of her. "What's wrong, beautiful?" he begged in response and she leaned back away from him, but he held her upright. He pressed his lips to her forehead. Not warm. He knew it wasn't to be changed; he changed her less than an hour ago.

"Do you just want attention, babe?" Mark sighed. "You're like Maureen more and more each day." He wasn't in the mood for raspberries, for playing or tossing. He could lose her after this trial. Molly, the one person who he thought could help him after Maureen, Joanne, and Roger were out of the picture, had used him for Charlotte's case?

Was it to check his house, to take pictures when he wasn't looking? To check his parenting skills before the trial so that Charlotte's lawyer knew the exact person to question when it came to getting Julie back?

"Mark?" of course.

"Molly." No emotion, no pain, no hurt, no love, no nothing; just a short quick greeting before he picked Julie up and sat on the bench. He bounced her on his knee and Molly shifted uneasily from foot to foot. Mark didn't look up at her, however.

"It's not what you think, Mark."

"So you talking to my ex-wife… knowing my predicament, lying and telling me you were visiting your father because the anniversary of your mother's death is tomorrow and you wanted to be with her. Coming into my life, knowing all the—" He covered Julie's ears and continued, "the shit I'm in and knowing that you could help her take my daughter away! That's all an a-okay lie, to you, am I right? Because let me be honest, I've had shitty relationships before, but never one like this. This is a new record. Maybe I could get your autograph or something… that'll help me out a great deal and—" As he continued speaking, she tried speaking over him. Julie began whining more.

"Mark, it's not like that. I know Charlotte, but I didn't know that was your ex-wife. You never told me her name and I never thought twice about the coincidence in the two of you going through a divorce at the same time. I mean, hell, it's America!" Molly finished.

"To befriend my daughter is a whole other thing. She gets attached to people, not that easily, but once she sees you more than once, that's it. You're the first person to seem okay with her. Even Maureen doesn't know what to do with her half the time. It's hard enough alone, but this is ridiculous." Mark was fuming and then the door opened and Mark looked away from Molly and back to Julie, rocking her and standing up.

"The trial's going to start again in three minutes…" Joanne said leaning against the doorframe. "Can I talk to you in… private?" she asked Mark, looking toward Molly.

Molly walked back into the courtroom and Joanne's heels echoed in the long empty hallway. "He's calling up Roger and Maureen. Maureen first, then Roger. Now I can handle calling up Charlotte, I have points in her little story she made before that would expose her as being an unfit mother, but I have warned Maureen. All you have to do now is sit back and relax, all right? Calm Julie down and then come back in."

12:00 PM. The trial continues.

"Ms. Johnson, you are Mr. Cohen's ex-girlfriend, as you've stated clearly before. May I ask why the two of you broke up?"

"Objection." Already… "Relevance?"

"I'm merely seeing if Ms. Johnson is a suitable parental figure, since she seems to be helping with babysitting and is active in the child's life, your honor," Mr. Palm explained. The judge just nodded for him to continue.

"We weren't really right for each other." Good, she's lying… "We met right after Mark was done with college and we were kind of both looking for love then. Nothing that would last long, you know? All kids do it."

"So you're saying it was a mutual discrepancy between the two of you and you collectively broke it off?" Maureen nodded. "Odd, Ms. Johnson, because I seem to have your past jobs here," his folder opened and he sifted through papers, "and although I'm sure many women go to gay bars to escape the inappropriate slurs from intoxicated men, a lesbian bar is something else…"

"Objection," Joanne said quickly, but Mr. Palm continued.

"Now, your current life partner is… who, Ms. Johnson?"

"Your honor, the interrogation is fueled by homophobic. This is biased and irrelevant!" Joanne objected, but the judge waved his hand and looked toward Maureen.

"Answer the question, Ms. Johnson." He looked toward Joanne. "You'll have your share of questions, sit, Ms. Jefferson."

"Your girlfriend, please…"

"Ms. Jefferson," Maureen was fighting back through clenched teeth.

"But I have various witnesses, documents, forms of those who have seen you working at that bar recently, Ms. Johnson. And, your honor, excuse my figure of speech, but when I say 'working there' I don't mean making a profit. Is this true, Ms. Johnson?"

Joanne fell back in her seat. "Jesus Christ," she grumbled, rubbing her temples.

"No, pookie," she was now talking to Joanne. "I haven't worked there in months, it's just when you left for that trip that I needed money and I thought I'd—"

"Order," the judge demanded and Mr. Palm smirked as Maureen shut up.

"No further questions with this witness, your honor. I would like to call Roger Davis to the stand, however."

Roger stood up and went over to the stand as Maureen sat down and Joanne began taking notes again. "Not the time," Mark mouthed as Maureen began making apologies.

"You are Mr. Cohen's roommate and best friend for how many years, Mr. Davis?"

"Since we were like—I dunno, eighth grade? I hated the dork when we were younger, but only I can pick on him. It's a love-hate friendship."

"When did you extend your relationship to roommates?"

"Mark dropped out of school. His dad wanted him to be a doctor and he didn't want to, so he went for his dream and dropped out. He wanted to be a documentary filmmaker. When we were younger he made me watch the films and I hated them, but it was his aspiration, so whatever makes you happy, I guess. I offered him the couch in my apartment until he found a place. He didn't want to go back home, obviously."

"How good of friends are you?"

"He knows everything about me, and vice versa. He's been there for me through everything."

"What kind of everything?"

"Failed jobs, bands, paychecks, women," Roger smirked slightly.

There was a pause and Roger thought the worst was over as Mr. Palm was sifting through his piles of paper. "You are HIV+, am I correct?"

Joanne looked up amazed. "You've got to be kidding me," she whispered. "OBJECTION!" she yelled now. "Homophobia and now this? Your honor, this is ridiculous!"

"I am _merely _trying to show that Mr. Cohen's role models that he has chosen for the child are unfit and…" The judge remained silent.

"Yeah, I do, what's the problem?" Roger answered now.

"Now we're getting somewhere."

"Mark helped me through that, too, so if you're trying to prove that I'm an unfit parent, I'm not her parent, Mark is."

"You are correct, Mr. Davis, however you are an influence in the child's life." He paused with a smirk. "Would you care to tell me how you contracted HIV?"

"Drugs."

"An addict, hmm… Where was Mark in all of this? Did he introduce you to the drugs?"

"Mark has never even taken a full aspirin in his life," Roger shot back, clearly annoyed with the guy. "I was hooked on drugs with my girlfriend. She took the test without telling me, found out, and committed suicide in our bathroom. Mark, _to save me_, got me off heroin and made me a better person. He stopped all of his life and stuff to help me. Most of his fights with Maureen were about him never leaving the apartment to make sure I was okay and not relapsing."

"No further questions, your honor."

"Ms. Jefferson?"

"Ms. Dawson. The stand, if you please," Joanne said through clenched teeth. Roger sat down and rolled his eyes.

"That ass," he grumbled to Mark, who seemed to nod in agreement, but was like Joanne; truly stunned.

"Did you or did you not leave the child on the floor with empty bottles of baby food and baby formula, with the intention of leaving your child alone, your own _flesh and blood, _until your husband came home, not knowing when or how long she would have to wait?"

"…They weren't empty. They were full bottles! And I checked to see if his plane was on time. I knew he'd be home any minute."

"What was your relationship like with your daughter during his absence? Obviously you had bonding time, am I wrong?"

"It was…" she hesitated and looked toward Julie. "Good."

"Any reason for the hesitation?"

"No…?"

"I see here you went to the doctor on his absence. Any serious problem?"

"Just a check-up. I was having cramps and no period… I thought I should go and check if everything went all right. It was nothing to do with Julie."

Joanne paused and sighed, going back to her folder. "You obviously didn't have someone with you all along with Julie, like your mother and father, correct?"

"Yes."

"And I can see that Julie is a handful, isn't she?" Joanne questioned.

"Aren't all babies, though?" Charlotte was now truly curious, not just relating to any baby, but also asking if all were tough to handle.

"Not all, but most are when you are overwhelmed, which you clearly were. Am I wrong in saying you asked Mr. Cohen to go on his trip?"

"You're not completely wrong. I mean, I did ask him to go, but we decided that before the baby was born. I didn't know it would be as hard as it was alone…"

"How hard was it, Ms. Dawson?"

Charlotte was quiet and looked over at Julie was squirming away from Mark, wanting to be held by Roger.

"Just hard…"

"Can you specify?"

Mr. Palm nodded toward her, not knowing what would come next.

"She would just—cry, so... much. She'd never go to bed or be… silent! Mark's sister's kids… they went to bed so easily, I thought something was wrong with me, but every time my mother would come over, she'd behave and stop crying. I begged her to stay and she couldn't live with me. She lives in Florida, so I—"

"Objection, your honor!" Mr. Palm said quickly.

"Now, Mr. Palm, I gave you your share of questions. Ms. Jefferson is questioning your client less malicious then you had. Remain seated, please."

Charlotte looked toward him and then at Mark and Julie. Mark felt a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat. He knew she said it felt surreal when they brought Julie home for the first time, but—he thought she meant…

"Continue, please, Ms. Dawson…"

"I don't know where I—"

"Overwhelmed. You felt overwhelmed."

"We were—in the…" she hesitated. "We were in the bathroom, I was giving her a bath and she kept crying, she kept whining and all I was trying to do was bathe her, get her to calm down and get some sleep myself. My mom was gone for another few weeks and she didn't know when she'd be back because my dad was in and out of the hospital with kidney failure…" Again she hesitated. "I… I didn't mean to hurt her, it was just so—quiet and I—"

"What did you do, Ms. Dawson?" Joanne was trying to ease it out of her.

"She slipped and I—it was so quiet…"

"You needed sleep… you were exhausted… you needed a break."

"I held her under the water and—"

"Oh my God," Mark froze and Charlotte began to tear up.

"I DIDN'T WANT TO HURT HER! GOD, NO! I just needed sleep, I needed—"

"No further questions, your honor," Joanne finished.

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**Cliffhanger. Sorry. (: Review?**


	13. For the Fool

_A/N: I have NOT completely left you guys! I am still here! Sophomore year has been hectic. I've been inducted into Honor Societies, AP exam happened, I have four NYS Regents Exams, friend problems, city trips, Tony's, Twilight-interest -wink wink-, etc. Everyone go see Next to Normal, it's apparently awesome and I saw Jen Damiano as Martha when I saw Spring Awakening in 2007. I'm going for my sweet sixteen, it should be fab. xD _

_On with the story... So after seeing Definitely Maybe, reruns of Private Practice, and The Proposal, I was in a very Ryan-Reynolds-Chris-Lowell-Father Mood. Hence this update. I HAVEN'T UPDATED SINCE FEBRUARY, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? Sorry for the short chapter, hopefully you approve? Drama follows drama in my book. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own, I REEENNNTTT!_

"WAIT! No!" Charlotte yelled desperately. "I didn't mean to hurt her! I swear! Mark, you know that I am a fit parent for Julie, you know I am!"

"Order! Order! Ms. Dawson, please control yourself and sit down!" The judge boomed and Mark cradled Julie against him, her head on his shoulder as she faded in and out of consciousness. The judge seemed sickened by the whole ordeal. Mark merely sat dazed for a second until Charlotte approached him ad he shot up.

"You will never come near her ever again, do you hear me?" Mark murmured low so not to disturb Julie. "Trying to drown our daughter, Charlotte? Really? You knew something was wrong and you didn't—"

"I didn't mean to hurt her!"

"ORDER!" The judge commanded. Charlotte sat down, shaking from nerves and embarrassment, her cheeks flushed, her body stiff. Mark couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. "After reviewing what seemed to be an eye-opening trial, I grant Mark Cohen full custody of Julie Marie Cohen. Ms. Dawson can have monthly scheduled and supervised visits with the child. I also order you to see a psychiatrist for what seems to be post-partum depression. The case is dismissed." And just like that, the judge was gone.

Mark was still frozen in his chair. It didn't seem like he had won at all. Julie nuzzled further in his neck, mumbling incoherent noises under her breath. "Congrats, man," Roger whispered, so not to disturb Julie. Mark couldn't answer.

Charlotte stood up and watched as Mr. Palm left the court in a rush, past Molly in the back. Joanne and Maureen moved their bickering out in the hall and Roger went to the back, stopped by Molly who talked to him quietly. Charlotte outstretched a hand toward her daughter and Mark recoiled back.

"You will not lay a hand on her until you get help," Mark whispered harshly.

Charlotte's hand shot back to her side and she nodded with a pained expression. "I truly am sorry—"

"To think you could get custody…" Mark grunted.

Charlotte's eyes searched for reassurance and Mark's expression relaxed as he nodded. She gave a weak smile before leaving the courthouse with one longing glance at Julie. Mark walked to the back of the courthouse where Roger and Molly stood.

"I'll take the munchkin," Roger said with a smirk, taking Julie out of his arms and Mark sighed as he and Molly were left alone.

"I'd say congratulations, but is that the right thing to say at court cases?" Molly asked awkwardly. Mark didn't respond and she sighed. "Can I explain?" he looked up to meet her eyes. She motioned toward the door and they began walking out in the hallway. "Charlotte is a writer, am I wrong? I went to college with her and she landed me my first editing job because her uncle owns the company I work for… That's all."

Mark stopped by the door and so did Molly. "Mark, I swear, I hadn't talked to her in over a year, just e-mails. I didn't know that she had a daughter or that she was married to you, I just edit her book." Mark didn't answer and Molly looked down, defeated. "Mark, say something…"

Mark took a deep breath and looked at her. "I just need time to process things," Mark answered. "With everything that happened with Charlotte—it's like a dream right now and I need to sort things out…" Molly nodded and looked up, hesitating awkwardly.

"Where do we stand?" she questioned curiously. Mark winced and looked back down.

"I—don't know…" he replied lamely. "I believe you, really, I do, and I just need time." He hesitated for a moment, their gazes met. "I'll call you… I promise." Molly reached out a hand toward him and then held it back. She nodded and watched as he left the court, following Roger, who was getting into a taxi.

"I'm sorry, do you have money with you, cause I certainly don't," Mark said and Roger sighed.

"I don't feel like walking…" he shut the taxi door and watched as it drove away. He handed Julie over to Mark, who held his arms out impatiently. Julie was already asleep, in and out of consciousness even amongst the bustling city noises.

"So she's Charlotte's editor?" Roger asked and Mark raised an eyebrow. "C'mon, you'd think I wasn't eaves dropping? Mark, how long have you known me?"

"You're right, I should've… uh, I should've guessed…" Mark said, still dazed.

"Remind me again, what is the problem with you two?" Roger asked and Mark sighed.

"I need time to think… I think we need a minute to breathe, to take this in… I want her to know where she stands in all of this mess and it might affect her career or something, I don't know," he muttered.

"Ah, so you're avoiding her for her own good?" Roger asked. "Smart move," he said as he turned to clear his throat.

"Can you—believe she did that?" Mark asked after a while of silence.

"She's sick, Mark, she's getting help," Roger answered.

"She tried to drown my daughter…" Mark answered in a daze. "Drown her… for sleep—I thought she was selfish, but drowning a baby for silence so she could have a cup of coffee in peace is… I mean, Julie is a handful when she's cranky, but it's for good reason. She's either sick or needs something… You just have to listen to her and she didn't want to listen," Mark murmured.

Roger didn't answer. He coughed into his sleeve and seemed like he was wheezing for air, but Mark was too dazed to notice. "I can't even… How could she do such a thing? Julie is—to look at that face ad to know you're going to harm her… How could she?"

By now they were at the apartment and Mark was walking up the stairs, Roger behind him, taking his time, coughing into his sleeve and blinking rapidly. Mark put the key in the door, opened it and turned around to see Roger's eyes roll back into his head. Everything went in slow motion from then on. He lost his balance on the last step and toppled down, nothing but the sound of his body hitting the stairway echoed in the hallway. Julie was startled awake and Mark froze. Not him too…

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**Review, please?**


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